CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
In many years there had not been such a storm in all the Northland as that which followed swiftly in the trail of the first snows that had driven Neewa into his den--the late November storm of that year which will long be remembered as KUSKETA PIPPOON (the Black Year), the year of great and sudden cold, of starvation and of death.
It came a week after Miki had left the cavern wherein Neewa was sleeping so soundly.

Preceding that, when all the forest world lay under its mantle of white, the sun shone day after day, and the moon and stars were as clear as golden fires in the night skies.

The wind was out of the west.

The rabbits were so numerous they made hard floors of the snow in thicket and swamp.

Caribou and moose were plentiful, and the early cry of wolves on the hunt was like music in the ears of a thousand trappers in shack and teepee.
With appalling suddenness came the unexpected.